


Cycles

by kernvoss



Category: Original Work
Genre: Medieval Fantasy, all original characters - Freeform, all original storyline, and of course borrowed aspects of other characters, borrowed aspects of other stories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 20,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21586126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kernvoss/pseuds/kernvoss
Summary: Duchess Fandix has found herself in the middle of a brewing war. At the request of her queen, Fandix travels to the Dead Valley in search of help from the gods. When the gods answer, she's surprised to learn that their great champions are just as human as she is. Or, at least, theyseemto be.
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

The sound of a hammer on anvil echoed through the valley, giving a steady beat to the music of nature. A bird sang along, seeming to intentionally match its singing to the hammer’s ring. A creek bubbled, the trees whispered as a breeze passed through. Somewhere in the distance, a horse whinnied, and a dog answered with a friendly yip. And the hammer kept ringing, its music filtering through the brush.

Deep in the valley, nearly against the mountain itself, was the source of the noise. A woman, short and muscular, worked steadily to repair some obscure farm instrument. Her tunic was undyed wool, loose and sleeveless and stained with dirt and soot from her work. Her hair was a pale brown, looking almost faded in the morning sunlight. She didn’t seem to notice the world moving around her; two young hounds chased each other behind her, barking and growling. The horses in the distance were waking with the morning sun, greeting one another with soft whinnies and gentle nudges.

On the woman worked, pausing only long enough to reheat her tool in the stove next to her hammer or get a drink of water. Focused on her work, she either didn’t notice her visitor or chose to ignore them. Her hounds, nearly as big as the horse, danced around the visitor in a friendly greeting, their barking nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of the hammer on anvil. Still, the woman worked.  
“Good day,” her visitor tried, somewhat timidly. Duchess Fandix of ____ wasn’t used to being ignored. Normally, she would demand the attention of the person who dared ignore her, but this was holy ground, and the woman at the anvil the only person she’d met so far. If this was a holy woman, then Fadix didn’t want to risk angering her. The woman continued hammering.

Fandix climbed down from her horse, grimacing as her muscles and saddle sores protested. The hounds stopped dancing around her horse, choosing instead to smell this new arrival with tails wagging. They’d finally stopped barking, as well. Fandix tried not to make any sudden movements; the only hounds she’d seen that were this size were war hounds, and they weren’t the kind of animal one took the risk of angering.

“Excuse me,” she tried again, louder this time. Satisfied with their investigation of the human, the dogs moved on to smelling her horse and the belongings on its back. The horse, for her part, accepted the dog’s attention with wary patience, watching them carefully but making no move to run them off. Fandix cleared her throat, watching the woman’s arm as she made another strike at whatever it was she was repairing. The muscles were well-defined, a thin layer of sweat highlighting their contours. Fandix realized she was staring and cleared her throat again, looking away.

The anvil and stove were set against the outer wall of a large stone building, a sturdy overhang built to give shade to whoever was working. The walls of the building were made with meticulously stacked gray and black stone, so carefully stacked that there were no cracks between stones to fill with mud. The door was built and framed with thick, sturdy wood from the pine trees in the valley, and the windows were shuttered with the same wood.

Nearby stood another house, this one without a stove and anvil out front. It had the same perfectly stacked stone, the same carefully constructed door and window shutters. Even the roofs of the buildings seemed to be made with careful perfection, slanted to shed snow and rain. The more Fandix looked, the more it seemed that there was an entire village hidden among these trees. There were no streets, and though each building had a shed against it to store firewood, none of the sheds seemed to be occupied. There was a ghostly emptiness to this lost little town, an unnerving silence that made Fandix shiver.

“There’s a larger building that way,” the woman suddenly spoke, making Fandix jump. She hadn’t even noticed that the hammering had stopped. “Go on to that building and choose a bedroom. Get yourself and your horse settled, and I’ll join you once I’m done with the morning’s work.”

“Oh. Uh,” the woman had already turned away, putting the hammer down. Whatever tool she’d been working on now rested in the bottom of a pail of water, cooling off with a burst of steam. “I am Duchess Fandix of-”

“There are no titles here, kid. Go on and get settled. You’ve been riding for a long time, so go on and get rested.”


	2. Chapter 2

Fandix passed several more houses as she moved through the trees. The woman at the anvil had been rude, certainly, and Fandix still didn’t know her name, but what else was she going to do? With luck, there would be someone else in this other house. The head of the valley temple, or at least someone with better manners.

It felt like the ghost village was watching Fandix as she led her horse around another empty home. It was clear that no one lived here, and just as clear that someone was taking care of the buildings. Every single one had doors and shutters, their front entryways swept of the leaves and weeds that littered the rest of the forest floor. All of them had their doors closed, the shutters locked tight with simple but well-made locks.

As she rounded the corner of the latest house, a new building appeared among the trees. This must have been the one the woman was talking about; massive, with the first signs of life Fandix had seen. All of the building’s shutters were open, an elderly hound laying in front of the door. Fandix could even see faded cloth curtains in the windows. The hound woke as she approached, getting up slowly and stretching. The hound had grey whiskers, the skin of her stomach loose from her time as a mother. The other two, who had disappeared into the woods with their master, must have been this one’s children. She wagged her tail slowly, huffing a greeting and politely sniffing at Fandix’s hand.

“You wouldn’t be able to tell me where the stables are, would you?” Fandix asked, scratching the massive hound behind her ear. The dog huffed again, now sniffing at the horse. Leaving the animals to get acquainted, Fandix gave the new building’s front door a polite knock. When no one answered, she pushed the door open.

Was she in the right place? What if she was breaking into someone’s home, simply assuming the woman at the anvil had meant this house. What if this had been some strange, elaborate prank from the beginning? The strange woman waited even now in the woods, for Fandix to get comfortable before bursting in and demanding she leave at once.

The front door opened to a massive community room, a fireplace in its center that still glowed faintly with half-dead embers. Low tables were pushed neatly against the walls of the room, out of the way but worn with use. Pillows and blankets were stacked neatly on top of and next to the tables, in varying colors and states of use. Fandix stepped the rest of the way inside, taking in the high ceiling and the scent of pine. Cooking supplies were stacked neatly in shelves built into the walls of the chimney, a strange mixture of earthenware and metal. Fandix walked around the room, looking through the opened doorways inside with curiosity.

There seemed to be five rooms down here, each with a table set against the wall next to its entrance. There was a bed, bookshelf, and clothes chest in each room, all showing signs of previous life. Though everything was made with the same pine wood as the doors, shutters, and forest outside, each room seemed to be assigned a different color scheme. One door had a table and pillows outside of its door in varying shades of brown with yellow accents; another, with green blankets and gray pillows. Someone had painted all of the wood in one room with a deep, royal purple; another was nearly colorless, except for the bright red blanket carefully folded on top of its little table.

The least lived-in room appeared to have an orange color scheme; its blanket looked almost brand new, dyed nearly black with bright orange stitching in a design Fandix didn’t recognize. All of the other bookshelves had been at least partially filled with books, some in languages Fandix didn’t recognize. Some bookshelves had held random little items instead of books, and the clothes chests at the foot of each bed had been closed. The orange room, however, only had a single, simple figurine on its bookshelf, and the clothes chest sat open, empty and gathering dust. The design on the blanket had been cut into the chest, the indention painted with the same bright orange. Fandix traced the design for a moment, then looked around.

She’d been told to get settled, after all.

The horse was still waiting for her outside, the old hound gone. Fandix pulled her saddle bags from the horse, bringing them all inside and depositing them inside the orange room’s doorway. Rubbing the back of her neck, she went back outside for the horse. Now, to find a stable.


	3. Chapter 3

The stables were behind the building. Fandix guided the horse into a stall, pulled off her saddle and bridle, and gave her a quick brush down before leaving. One end of the stable opened up to a field, the biggest area Fandix had seen free of trees. A small herd of only three horses, one of them still too young to ride, were grazing near the northernmost fence. One raised its head, looking in Fandix’s direction for a moment before returning to its breakfast.

Next to the field, set up just out of the range of hungry horses, was a small garden. Fandix wasn’t entirely certain what each plant was, having spent almost no time among gardens or farms in her life. She thought she recognized lettuce, and she could smell mint from a distance. The usual staples for someone living alone, then. Straightening her tunic, Fandix continued around the house.

The next thing she saw was a well, far enough from the house to make running for water annoying. Along this side of the house was a massive pile of firewood, easily enough to last a single person a full winter in the mountains. Fandix finished circling the house and realized that it was in the shape of a hexagon. This was truly a strange building. Looking up, she could see a second story. She didn’t remember seeing stairs anywhere, inside or out. What did they do to get to the top, climb the firewood stack? Lift themselves up with magic?

“I see you found the building,” the woman at the anvil had returned, appearing from the trees and making Fandix jump again. “It’s nearly lunchtime, let’s get the fire started back up.”

“Wait,” Fandix said, somewhat hesitantly. She wanted answers, but was still afraid of angering a holy woman. “Who… What’s your name? I gave you mine.”  
“Kern,” she said shortly. She stepped around Fandix, beginning to gather firewood.

“What is your role here?”

“Caretaker,” Kern said with a small shrug. “I give visitors somewhere to sleep, warm food to eat, while they wait for the gods to answer their calls.”

“And where are the others? The people who live in those other rooms inside the house?” Fandix followed Kern around the building as she spoke.

“The others visit,” Kern said, pausing at the closed front door, “but rarely stay for more than a few days at a time.”

“Okay,” Fandix said, searching for her next question. There was a lot she needed to know, but now that she had someone to answer questions she couldn’t seem to think of any of them.

“Mind getting the door?” Kern asked dryly. It took Fandix a moment to process that the woman was asking because her arms were full, and not because she expected servitude. Pulling the door out of the way, Fandix rubbed her nose in an attempt to hide her blush.

“When will the gods answer my call?”

“When they feel like it,” Kern said shortly.

“What does that mean?”

“The gods don’t see time the way that you and I do,” Kern explained, setting her pile of firewood down by the fire. “They have their own problems, and their own plans. Can you get the fire started while I go to the well and get some water?”

“Uh,” Fandix hesitated. She was still trying to process the concept that the gods wouldn’t answer her call straight away. Before she could tell Kern that she didn’t have the faintest idea how to build a fire, the other woman was gone.

“A large piece of wood like that won’t burn straight away,” Kern had snuck up on Fandix again, making the duchess jump for the third time that day.

“I know that,” Fandix snapped, blushing. She didn’t know that, but she wasn’t about to admit her ignorance. Her servants always had at least one fire going. Surely it wasn’t that hard to build one from embers.

“You’ll need a knife,” Kern said. Fandix spun to glare at her, and found the woman sitting next to her, a knife held out hilt-first. She didn’t seem to be angry that the fire wasn’t started yet, nor did she seem to be judging Fandix for her ignorance. “Start by shaving thin strips of wood onto those embers.”

It took nearly twenty minutes to get the fire properly burning. The large chunk of wood Fandix had started with still wasn’t flaming, but the sticks around and stacked on top of it were. It was only a matter of time, now. Kern hadn’t lifted a finger to help, instead coaching Fandix from the sidelines. A shimmer of pride lit in Fandix’s belly when she looked at the fire she’d built. Who knew something as simple as a fire would feel like such an accomplishment.

“Tend to the fire, then,” Kern said, standing up suddenly, “while I get some vegetables. Fire is more delicate than you think, so be careful not to smother it trying to make it burn faster.”

“Right,” Fandix said, changing to a more comfortable sitting position. Kern nodded, disappearing out of the front door once more.

The big log was finally burning by the time Kern returned, the basket in her hand now filled with freshly rinsed vegetables.

“Well done,” she said, eying the fire as she set her basket down next to the bucket of water. “Now we can leave it be while we chop vegetables.”

“We?” Fandix asked, looking at the basket with a sense of apprehension. “I’ve never… Is there something else I can do?”

“It’s a simple enough job,” Kern said shortly, picking up one of the tables against the wall. “You’ll need to know these things, if you’re to go to war.”

“Who said I was going to war?” Fandix asked sharply.

“Why else would you be here?”

“To… to ask the gods for their blessing?”

“What do you want them to bless you with? A good harvest? I doubt it, since you’re not a farmer. A happy marriage? You’d have brought your spouse. That’ll be the same for a healthy pregnancy. Maybe you want fortune for your duchy? You’re a duchess, but you don’t seem to be that greedy.”

“What if I just wanted their blessing? Like, a generic blessing for good luck?”

“I’ve lived in this mountain for a very long time, Fandix,” Kern said, pulling a second table over. It was the black and orange one outside of Fandix’s door. “The only people who know how to find this place are the ones who believe in that prophecy.”

“Oh,” Fandix said, looking away.

“The gods will heed the call of man, and send their champions to win your war. Or something like that. Right?”

“…Yeah,” Fandix finally admitted. “I don’t want a war, though.”

“Then don’t have one,” Kern said simply. She set the orange table in front of Fandix, setting a handful of carrots and a knife on it.

“It isn’t that simple,” Fandix grumbled, staring at the carrots. “There will be war, whether I start it or not.”

“So you’re starting it before your enemies can?”

“Yes,” Fandix growled. She didn’t like Kern’s tone, as if she were a warmonger for starting this war before the enemy could. “If we start it, we’ll get the upper hand. We can end the war faster, that way.”

“Sure,” Kern said with a shrug. She clearly didn’t believe Fandix. “Start by cutting either end of the carrot off and setting the leftovers to the side.


	4. Chapter 4

Three days passed before Fandix lost her temper. Kern woke each morning well before sunrise and disappeared until nearly noon. The moment she returned from whatever morning duties she had, Kern would put Fandix to work. Building fires, chopping vegetables, even cleaning out the stables. With patience that surprised even her, Fandix accepted each task without complaint. She learned how to properly groom the horse she’d arrived on, how to pull water from the well, even how to tell weeds from crops in the garden.

But every minute she spent felt like another life lost in a war that hadn’t even started. Fandix hadn’t come to this valley to learn how to live like a peasant; she’d come to get the gods’ champions so that she could win this war. She should be preparing for the coming war, not learning how to skin a squirrel one of the hounds caught.

The final straw was when Kern brought her to a bench next to the well, a huge tub of water in front of it. Kern put a washerboard and one of her soot-stained tunics in the water, and Fandix realized she was about to be told to wash laundry.

“Enough!” She snapped, exhausted. A duchess, washing her own laundry! Building fires and tending horses were reasonable duties for a duchess in a war camp, but surely she wouldn’t be expected to scrub others’ tunics.

“You lasted longer than usual,” Kern said, looking faintly amused.

“Excuse me?”

“Usually, the people who come here start arguing about doing chores within the first few hours. You’ve done well to last three entire days.”

“You. This was a test?”

“Not really,” Kern said, sitting down on the wall of the well. “You need the power of the full moon for your call to reach the gods, and the gods to answer.”

“That’s another week away,” Fandix grated between clenched teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You didn’t ask. Listen, kid-”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Isn’t kid used these days in place of ‘child’?”

“By commoners! And even if it were, I’m not a child! I’m a grown woman.”

“I suppose you are,” Kern admitted, a tiny wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows. “I’ll do my best not to call you that any more.”

“You may call me Duchess,” Fandix said firmly, crossing her arms.

“No,” Kern said simply. “I’ll stop calling you a kid, but I was serious when I said that there are no titles in this valley.”

“The gods marked their favorites, and those favorites became royalty and nobility. If this is a holy valley, then my titles should mean even more than they do in the rest of the world!”

“Don’t be absurd,” Kern said, properly frowning now. “The gods don’t have favorites. They barely even notice humans unless they need us for something, or we force them to look our way.”

“Blasphemy!”

“Don’t speak to me of blasphemy, little duchess.”

“You’re denying the temple’s words!”

“The temple is denying the gods’ words.”

“How dare you-”

“Hello, friends!” Fandix spun to find a man standing in the clearing, his pale horse’s reins in one hand and the other raised in a friendly wave. His hair was bright, almost golden in the sun, and his bright green eyes glittered in the sunlight. His clothes were the latest fashion in the capitol; a silver tunic with red embroidery at the wrists and collars, his belt black leather with a mirror-bright buckle. His hose was black, tucked into dark brown, polished leather boots. Even his smile was dazzling, and between his beauty and sudden appearance, Fandix found herself stunned to silence.

“Hello, Jyonto,” Kern greeted him in her nearly emotionless voice. The frown from before was gone, and though she didn’t smile outright, there was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. She seemed genuinely happy to see this Jyonto.


	5. Chapter 5

“She chose the orange room,” Jyonto said quietly, accepting a cup of tea from Kern. She shrugged, taking a sip from her own cup.

“It’s the least used room in the building,” she pointed out.

“She’s named Fandix! Isn’t that the name of-”

“No. Close, but that name hasn’t been used in centuries.” Kern’s eyes were distant, a faint hint of pain in them.

“Well,” Jyonto said, bumping his shoulder against hers, “that’s probably because no one knows how to pronounce it any more.”

“I do.”

“True. She came alone?”

“She did. Unless you count her horse.”

“Everyone comes in here on a horse or a donkey or something.”

“A camel, once,” Kern said, looking thoughtful. “That turned out to be a true case, too.”

“So you really don’t know?”

“J, I won’t lie to you.” She stared down into her teacup, a wrinkle between her eyebrows. “All of the requirements have been met, so far. Including your visiting.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have come,” he muttered, scowling into his own tea.

“If you hadn’t come, one of the others would have.”

“So this is it?” He asked, looking pained. “Another cycle already?”

“We won’t know until the full moon.”

“The world hasn’t recovered from the last cycle,” he pointed out. Not that Kern would know. She only left the valley when she had to.

“They’re getting impatient.”

“I didn’t think the gods could get impatient.”

“They’re practically human, with longer lifespans.” There was a bitterness in Kern’s voice that Jyonto chose not to ask about.

“You would get stoned in the streets if you said that too loud down in civilization.”

“I’m not in civilization.” Kern leaned back, her shoulders pressing into the wall of Jyonto’s red-touched room. “When did the nobility decide they were chosen by the gods?”

“Oh, that.” Jyonto grinned. “That idea started about 200 years ago.”

“First I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, it started in [country b]. It didn’t transfer to [country a], where Fandix’s estate is, until about 80 years ago.”

“What a strange idea,” Kern muttered, clearly offended by the idea.

“Yeah, [country b] had a particularly insane monarch, who said they were hearing the musings of the gods in their sleep. Made a lot of crazy claims. Some of them were even right.”

“Fascinating,” she answered dryly.

“You only say that when you think something’s stupid.”

“Getting word from the gods in your sleep? Be realistic, J. It is stupid.”

“Well, I’m not a believer.” He paused, mind wandering back to the problem Fandix presented. “Anyway… You really think the gods are pushing the timeline? That they’re getting tired of the cycle?”

“How long has it been since the last cycle failed?”

“Less than a generation.”

“Then, yes.” Kern sighed. “If Fandix is truly the start of another cycle, it’s because the gods are pushing for this to be finished sooner rather than later.”

“Do you think we could use that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if they’re getting impatient… Maybe they’ll be willing to bend the rules?” But Kern was already shaking her head.

“That isn’t likely. This is the first sign that they want the cycle to end. It’s taken how many centuries to get even that change.”

“I think we should try, anyway.” He said stubbornly, setting his teacup down on the table next to the bed.

“With what?” She almost sounded amused by the idea. “Ask the gods to kill our enemies for us or something?”

“Or the other way around.”

“Everyone always asks the gods for their protection, and it never gets any special treatment. Why would they change things up now?”

“To end the cycle!”

“We can keep the option in mind, J, but don’t get your hopes up too high.” Kern reached across him, setting her own teacup down on the table before standing up. “I’m headed to the cave. Do you want to come along?”

“No,” he said, watching her gather up the teacups and teapot. “I didn’t sleep much on the road, and it’s nearly midnight already.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Night, little sister,” he said, grinning.

“Some day, I’ll tell you exactly how much older than you I am, little brother.”

“I’m not sure I want to know,” he admitted. She rolled her eyes, walking out of his bedroom and pulling the door closed behind her with a foot. Jyonto laid back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was nearly a full minute later, when he was certain she was out of earshot, before he spoke again.

“I haven’t recovered from the last cycle.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Dragonkin magic?!” Fandix asked in a hushed whisper, staring at the etchings in the ground and walls of the cave they’d entered. Kern glanced at her, but said nothing; Jyonto looked stunned.

“You can recognize dragonkin magic at a glance?” He asked.

“My grandmother was obsessed,” Fandix admitted, blushing slightly. “She gathered any books and art about the dragonkin that she could find. Nearly bankrupted the duchy, actually. I spent my free time in her library.”

“Well,” Jyonto said, a hint of disbelief in his voice, “who’d have expected that?”

“But if we’re going to work with the standard dragonkin style, don’t we need three more people?” Fandix knelt, examining the etchings on the ground. There were six symbols, each with a different gem in its center. The orange gem had an unusual cut, none of the facets she was used to seeing gems shaped with. The designs created a circle, with a small pool of water in the center of it.

“Very few spells require all six people,” Kern said shortly. She was adding some dried herbs to the water in the center of the pool, and the scent of them filled the cave as she worked. Fandix frowned, looking at each of the symbols.

Orange, which was closest to the entrance to the cave, was fire. If she followed it clockwise, the next color was yellow; air. An emerald glittered from its place in the center of the earth symbol. Blue for water, purple for electricity, and finally red - wood. Jyonto centered himself in that symbol, sinking down to sit patiently on his knees. Kern set her empty bag of dried herbs to the side and moved to the water symbol, her knees resting just behind its sapphire center.

“I’m to sit at air, then?” Fandix asked, moving toward the gem. Kern nodded, watching as Fandix examined the yellow gem at its center. Another gem she didn’t recognize offhand.

“Sit like I am,” Kern ordered. “On your knees, with the gem just in front and between them.”

Hopefully, she wouldn’t be expected to sit like this for an extended period of time. Fandix could already feel her feet losing circulation. Kern nodded her approval. Her hands were clasped neatly in front of her, tucked against her stomach. Fandix copied her position exactly, forcing herself to sit straight rather than slouching. Jyonto had done the same, though he looked nearly as comfortable as Kern did.

“What now?” Fandix asked, when nothing happened.

“Now you close your eyes,” Kern said, watching Fandix from her position. It wasn’t until Fandix’s eyes were closed that she spoke again. “And you pray.”

“This doesn’t seem very magical,” Fandix muttered. She thought she heard a stifled snort from Jyonto’s direction, but she couldn’t be certain with her eyes closed.

“This isn’t magic,” Kern answered dryly. “This is praying. The shape of the cave and the symbols beneath us help to amplify the prayer, making it easier for the gods to hear it. And the remnants of magic within the designs, their gems, and the pool at the center, are enough to support the weight of a god should one answer.”

“You sound skeptical,” Fandix accused, still sitting with her eyes shut. The idea that Kern didn’t think this would work, that the gods wouldn’t answer, was painful. She’d traveled this far at the request of her queen, a kind and devout woman who believed with all of her being that this was the dawning of the prophecy. Fandix, for her part, hadn’t really believed in the prophecy. She’d argued bitterly with the queen for nearly a week, begging her to prepare for the war without sending runners on hopeless missions.

It had been the queen who had convinced Fandix that this was worth a shot. The king was a tyrant, abusing his people nearly as much as he abused his wife and son. His taxes were starving the commoners and strangling the nobility. More than once, he’d called for the execution of a noble simply because they’d frowned during one of his speeches. The man was insane, and needed to be stopped. So the queen had taken her son and escaped, running to the home of her childhood friend, Fandix’s mother. The rebellion had support, certainly, but it was made of weak and starved soldiers, of under-equipped knights and cowardly nobles. The only way they could win this war was with the gods.

Fandix didn’t even realize she’d been praying, asking the gods to help end this war, until a sudden light made her eyes snap open.

“I have heard your call,” A voice said, seeming to come directly out of the water. It was the water, suddenly glowing, that had startled Fandix’s eyes open. The six gems around the pool glittered with refracted light, lighting the cave like a rainbow. “I have heard your call, young one, and I have chosen to answer.”

Fandix bent at the stomach, nearly pressing her face into the ground in front of her. The presence of a god was undeniable; their voice sent waves of exitement, fear, and happiness through her that made every hair stand on end. She couldn’t not bend under the power of that voice.

“Please,” she whispered, unsure whether she should even be speaking, “help us end this war before it becomes a massacre.”

“I will,” the god answered, a reassurance in their voice that sent a rush of relief through Fandix. “I will send my champions to defend your cause, young one.”

“Thank you,” she said, raising her head. There wasn’t an image in the water, and she couldn’t even begin to guess which god had answered. But she had an answer, and she would have the gods’ champions.

At her place behind the blue gem, Kern sat eerily still, her eyes on the water. She didn’t seem to be surprised or even fazed by the presence of a god. And, while Fandix felt it would be impossible not to bow to this god, Kern sat just as she had before, her back straight and her hands clasped loosely in front of her.

Jyonto hadn’t pressed his face into the stone, either, but he at least had his head bowed. His eyes were still closed, his shoulders slumped. For a moment, Fandix thought he looked utterly defeated, and she even thought she might have seen a tear drip from his eye onto the stone beneath him.

But the presence of the god faded, and Fandix nearly collapsed to the side, stunned by how tense her body had been. She laid there for a long minute, staring up at the roof of the cave. There were etchings there, too, though she couldn’t recognize any of them offhand. She thought they might be words, chiseled into the ceiling in an impossible to follow design. The stone of the ceiling and walls, she suddenly realized, was laced with natural gems, an unnatural gathering of uncut gems that made the light of the pool glitter even brighter. No wonder, then, that there had been so many colors dancing through the cave.

“Well,” Jyonto suddenly said, making Fandix jump. He’d stood up, looking around the room absently. “It looks like you’re going to war, Duchess Fandix.”

“It does,” she said quietly. “And I’ll have the gods and their champions the whole way.”

“Yes,” Jyonto said, nodding. “You’ll have the champions, certainly. We’ll need to gather them up, then. Let’s go and get packed.”

“We’ll leave in the morning,” Kern said. She was sitting where she had been earlier, looking almost angry. “Gather your things and get dinner started. I’ll be there shortly.”

“You’re coming?” Fandix asked, startled. “Both of you?”

“Well, yes,” Jyonto said, looking amused. He stood over Fandix, offering a hand to help her up. “You can’t win with only half of the gods’ champions, after all.”

“You mean you’re-”

“If I remember the translation of the prophecy you’re following correctly, I’m referred to as the Healer.”

“Oh. It’s… it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Thanks. Kern’s the General. I hope you didn’t mind following her orders too much, ‘cause you’ll be following them for a long time yet.”

“She’s what?”

“The General. Or is the translation “the Leader”? I can never get it straight.”

“You said you were just the caretaker!” Fandix turned toward Kern, unbelieving. But the woman was gone, the little bag she’d brought with her still sitting on the ground nearby. Fandix looked around, startled. She hadn’t noticed Kern stand up, let alone leave. Was there another passage out of the cave she didn’t know about?


	7. Chapter 7

Fandix woke to the smell of cooking bacon. She found Jyonto in the community room, sitting next to the fire with shadows under his eyes and a tired smile. He’d been making breakfast since he arrived, but this was the first time Fandix had seen him looking truly exhausted. What startled her was Kern, who was usually impossible to find first thing in the morning. The woman walked in, stepped into Jyonto’s red-trimmed room, and walked out with his saddlebags thrown over her shoulders.

When Fandix followed Kern out, she found her horse and Jyonto’s, both fully saddled. Kern was attaching Jyonto’s saddlebags to his palomino, the horse’s pale white tail flicking absently. Fandix’s own horse, a simple blue roan, looked dull next to the healer’s golden horse. Kern stepped around Fandix and back inside, grabbing the bags she’d packed last night and returning to the blue roan. Fandix watched her, trying to decide if she should be helping or not. Giving up, the duchess stepped back inside and accepted a few slices of bacon from Jyonto.

Kern didn’t accept her own breakfast until the work of loading the horses was done. Even then, she kept moving, eating bacon as she walked around the back of the house toward the stables. Jyonto watched her go, a sadness in his eyes that Fandix wanted to ask about. She didn’t know how to ask, so she kept her mouth shut and helped him fold and stow the blankets and pillows they’d been using.

“Where does she sleep?” Fandix asked, realizing for the first time since her arrival that Kern hadn’t been sleeping in any of the rooms of the building.

“Upstairs,” Jyonto said, stretching.

“There aren’t any stairs,” she reminded him.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. Her room is on the second story, though. The way up is kind of hidden, though.”

“What does she do? Fly up there?”

“Gods, no!” Jyonto said, laughing. “There are little indentations in the rock of the walls, handholds not too different from a ladder. She climbs the side of the house, and lives up top. That’s the blue room.”

“Why in the world would they design a ladder instead of a staircase? What happens if the person who lives up top breaks an arm?”

“They move downstairs,” Kern answered from the doorway. Fandix wrinkled her nose.

“That’s absurd,” she said shortly. “No one wants to have to move their entire lives, just because one person broke a limb.”

“None of the people who designed these homes kept their entire life in a bedroom,” Kern said with a shrug. “Rooms weren’t assigned by who lived in them, but by what position they had in the design of the house. The first room to the left of the entrance is always the purple room, then the red room, and so on.”

“It’s just strange,” Fandix complained, following Kern and Jyonto out of the building. Kern had brought her own horses around, the two adults and yearling all strung together on leads. One of the horses was all black, larger than average and with a fire in her eyes. She was the one with the saddle. The other adult had white flecks on her flank, and was more interested in eating the grass beneath her hooves than paying attention. Even the yearling was female, her coat a dark gray that would almost certainly lighten as she aged.

“The ones who designed these buildings would say the same about your castles and homes,” Kern pointed out. Fandix just shrugged.

“Whatever you say, General.”

“Who’s nearest, J?” Kern asked, pulling herself into the saddle. Fandix hadn’t had a chance to ask more about how this would work, but even if she did she felt the answers wouldn’t be satisfying. For now, she decided, she would simply wait and watch.

“Zith is closest,” Jyonto said, jumping rather gracefully into his own saddle.

Fandix tried not to look like a fool as she climbed onto her horse’s back, uncomfortable with even the idea of riding more. She still hadn’t fully recovered from her last horseback trip.

“We’ll head to Zith, then,” Kern agreed. “You lead the way, Jyonto. I’ll take up the rear, since I have the spare horses.”

“Alrighty,” Jyonto said cheerfully, turning his horse toward the woods.

Fandix looked back once, as they left the valley. The sun had risen just enough, and at just the right angle, that it lit the trees from above with red and orange light. For just a moment, it almost looked like the forest was burning. With a shudder, she turned back around, looking instead at Jyonto’s shining blond head.


	8. Chapter 8

Zithsa turned out to be a tall, thin man with dark skin and even darker eyes. He kept his black hair long, straight, and pulled back in a loose ponytail. His clothes fit loosely, in the way that Fandix had been taught to expect assassins to dress.

There was an air of danger around him, and when Fandix saw how quickly his eyes shifted from one thing to another, she decided that he would be a dangerous man to anger.

Despite the fact that Fandix felt she ought to fear this man, she couldn’t help but to like him. He had a casual air about him, and greeted everyone with the same easy grin and an offer to buy them a drink. He greeted Kern and Jyonto like old friends, and immediately bowed to Fandix when she introduced herself as a duchess. For the first time since she’d entered the valley, Fandix was once again being called “Duchess” and “your Grace” at every turn. She was surprised to find that it sounded strange to her ears. She’d grown up being treated with the respect of upper nobility, and had spent less than three weeks without her title.

Yet, for some reason, when Zithsa called her “Grace”, it felt strangely wrong.

“So,” Zithsa said, leaning back in his chair, “the cycle’s upon us again already?”

“Yes,” Jyonto said, staring for a moment into the contents of his mug. They were in an alehouse, supposedly owned by Zithsa but run by a beautiful woman with long black hair. It was clearly a successful business; all of the people inside were rich and powerful, and Fandix felt slightly out of place in her travel-stained leathers. Kern, in her peasant clothes, looked incredibly out of place, though she didn’t appear even remotely uncomfortable. Jyonto was still dressed in the latest fashion, giving him the appearance of the richest man at the table.

“Well,” Zithsa said cheerfully, “I say we drink to that, how about you?”

“Before you get too drunk to think,” Kern said, not a single emotion on her face or in her voice, “let’s figure out where we’re going next and what kind of work will be involved.”

“Oh,” Zithsa waved a hand, as if batting away an annoying bug. “That’s easy. Next is Calystra, a few days’ ride to the east. She won’t give us much trouble, since the brat she’s been looking after is itching for a fight, and the Cycle means war.”

“And Gerrod?” Kern asked, pouring the contents of her mug into Jyonto’s. Fandix hadn’t even seen the man take a drink, let alone finish the entire mug.

“Well,” some of Zithsa’s smile faded, “he won’t be as easy.”

“Caly is supposed to be keeping an eye on him,” Jyonto said, bringing his newly filled mug to his lips. “Good stuff, this ale.”

“Top quality,” Zithsa said cheerfully. “Anyway, Caly did keep an eye on him for a long while. But she was breeding horses and hounds for the nobles, and they started to notice the quality of Gerrod’s work. The two were attracting too much attention, so they split off.”

“You’ve been watching from a distance?” Kern asked. She seemed to already know the answer. Fandix watched silently, trying to understand any of what the others were saying.

“I’m always watching, dear sister,” Zithsa said smugly. Fandix shuddered; that air of danger suddenly seemed to make the air thick with fear. One of the other patrons, sitting just within earshot, actually paled and stood to leave. Zithsa watched the man go, his cheerful smile still in place. Fandix watched as those dark eyes flicked to the side, and back to the man who was leaving. A shadow in the corner of the alehouse took shape, and a quiet woman followed the man out.

Fandix felt faint, as if she’d watched an assassination in person.

“And I suppose you’re going to tell us why he won’t be ‘as easy’?” Kern asked, eyebrow raised.

“Oh,” Zithsa said, turning his attention back to the others at his table. Like a switch had been flipped, he was a cheerful, likeable man once more. “He hates war, that’s all.”

“We all hate war,” Jyonto said bitterly. The ale was starting to color his cheeks; Fandix was startled to see even Zithsa sliding his mug over, like an offering in temple. Jyonto picked the new mug up, raising it as if he were giving a toast, before knocking it back. Fandix watched in stunned silence as he downed the entire thing in a matter of seconds. She’d been so distracted by Jyonto that she’d missed half of the conversation between Kern and Zithsa.

“-and that’ll just be the start of it, I’m afraid.”

“Well,” Kern said, rubbing her face, “we’ll have to be delicate with him, then.” Zithsa only nodded.

Fandix went to bed after her second pint, a pleasant fuzziness between her ears. Jyonto had continued to drink, less like a man enjoying his ale and more like a man on a mission. The amount of ale he could take in before showing obvious signs of drunkenness was stunning. Fandix had watched with something close to awe, before seeing the grim look on his face and excusing herself. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see or hear what Jyonto had to say when he got drunk enough.


	9. Chapter 9

“Our wagon will be loaded by noon,” Zithsa said. He sat across the table from Kern, passing the egg from his plate onto hers. When he finished, she slipped the beans from her own plate onto his.

“Do we need a wagon?” Kern asked.

“I’m sure that little old dog you’ve got following you will appreciate it,” Zithsa replied with a grin. Kern nodded.

“I keep forgetting how old she’s gotten,” she admitted. The ride from the valley to the little town Zithsa lived in had been less than two days; if they hadn’t had hounds following them on foot, Fandix was certain they could have made it in one.

“A wagon will be nearly as slow,” she mumbled. The nonchalant, easy pace that Kern and the others seemed to be taking this in was beginning to grate her nerves. Waiting for the full moon had been enough of a delay; now they would be waiting half of a day just to get back on the road again.

“If we put J on a horse after the night he had, he’d fall off of it.” Kern poked at her extra eggs with a fork, looking tired.

“Why did you let him drink so much, then?” Fandix grumbled.

“Ah,” Zithsa sighed, “we all deal with the cycle differently.”

“What does that mean?” Fandix asked. She still wasn’t entirely certain what they meant when they said ‘cycle’, though she knew it was directly related to the war brewing back home.

“I’m going to check on J. And the horses.” Kern put the last bite of her breakfast in her mouth before standing. Without a word, Zithsa took her plate and put it under his own.

“Well, I guess they didn’t really tell you anything?” Zithsa asked, eying Fandix from his place across the table. She scooted over, taking the seat Kern had been in.

“They said I had to wait for a full moon,” she growled, “but only after I asked what was taking so long. Then, they told me the gods might not even answer. And when the gods did answer, all Jyonto said was that he was the Healer in the prophecy, and Kern is the General. Sure, I can believe he might be a healer, but Kern? I’ve never met a general who refused to use proper titles like that woman does. And she never explains anything! Shouldn’t a general be willing to explain what’s going on?”

“Are you sure she doesn’t explain anything?” Zithsa asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Kern told me last night you’re a good learner. You picked up how to build a fire by yourself after just one lesson from her, right?”

“Wh-that’s not the same thing!”

“Listen, the thing about Kern is that she…assumes. She’s big on assumptions. If you don’t tell her you’re confused, or she doesn’t see you messing something up, she just assumes you’re able to do it. And if you do mess up, she doesn’t mind. ‘Till you mess up after she gave you a lesson, of course. She’s got no patience for that sort of thing.”

“So, just because I didn’t ask what the cycle is, or why the gods might not answer, or why it only took three people in a six person ceremony… She thinks I just know?”

“Either you know, or you don’t care to know. She’s a woman of few words.”

“And Jyonto?”

“Oh, he’s talkative enough. And friendlier than anyone you’ll meet. He’s just a little distracted at the moment.”

“By the coming cycle?”

“Exactly! See, you’re catching on.”

“Except that I don’t know what the fuck a cycle is!”

“Okay, okay. I’ll start there, then. You really should be getting all this from Kern, but I’ve got nothing else to do anyway.”

“Thanks,” Fandix said sarcastically. Someone finally willing to explain things to her, and he was only doing it out of boredom.

“Once upon a time, a long-ass time ago, the gods fucked up.”

“That’s really how you’re going to start this? With blasphemy?”

“Not blasphemy. Truth. Listen, I’m a blunt kind of guy. You’ll get used to it.”

“Whatever. But if you get struck down for speaking ill of the gods, I don’t want to hear about it.”

“I like your humor.”

“Just get on with it.”

“The universe - and this world - has a purpose. No idea what that purpose is, but it doesn’t matter. That purpose was knocked off-course when the gods made a mistake. I don’t know the details of the mistake, either, but again it isn’t important.”

“How is it not important?”

“It isn’t directly relevant to us. The mistake caused the universe to get caught in a kind of loop. Until that purpose is set back on the right path or whatever, it just keeps resetting itself. That’s happening all over the universe, apparently, but we don’t care about everyone else, do we?”

“Maybe we should?”

“Nah, we don’t. Let’s not turn it into a debate.”

“…Okay.”

“So, the cycle starts when someone shows up in the valley, asking the gods for help in their coming war.”

“Then it started when I showed up?”

“Yes. Though Kern and Jyonto couldn’t be certain it wasn’t just a false start, until whichever god answered your call in that cave.”

“Why did we only need three people?”

“Oh, I don’t pretend to understand dragonkin magic. Kern told me once that the number of people involved in a ritual is what determines the power level of the results. So, I guess, three is the minimum power requirement for reaching the gods on a full moon, in a sacred cave, within a sacred mountain.”

“Fascinating.”

“Eh. Maybe to you. If you want to know more about dragonkin magic, ask Kern. She’s the expert, not me.”

“So, I started the cycle.”

“Yes. And you may or may not make it to the end of that cycle. See, the same general events take place every cycle, with people filling the same general roles. A certain battle, won by a specific decision… A specific missive gets lost on its way to its destination, and so on.

“What changes every time, is whether or not some specific people make it through each cycle. Kern was the first to survive a cycle. There’s a specific event, somewhere in the war, that she survived. Once she survived it, she stopped aging, and basically became unkillable. The only thing that can kill her now is that event, when it happens again this cycle.”

“You expect me to believe she’s unkillable.”

“You can believe whatever you want.”

“If I walked up to her right now, and stuck her with my knife right in the heart, she would survive.”

“No, you wouldn’t be able to stick her with the knife.”

“It isn’t that hard to miss, you know.”

“I’m not saying you’re incompetent - I’m saying that something would stop you. The waitress would trip into her and knock her out of the way of the knife. Your knife would get caught in its scabbard and she would walk out of the room before you figured out what’s wrong. Most likely, she would knock the knife out of your hand and ask you what the fuck your problem is.”

“Divine intervention, then?”

“If that term is what helps you sleep at night.”

“Okay, sure. Let’s pretend I believe you.”

“I don’t really care if you believe me.

“The next person to survive was Jyonto. Kern hasn’t told us how many times she completed the cycle before she helped J survive his special event. But we all know what his event is, so we still know more about J than we do K.”

“He’s centuries old?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, sure. Why not? I’ll believe you.”

“I was next in line. I won’t tell you how many times I went through the cycle before we rescued Calystra, the next person to survive. Last is Gerrod, who survived his event just last cycle.”

“So, you guys relive what is essentially the same war, every few hundred years?”

“Eh, it’s more like every generation or so. This one came on a bit early, but I don’t mind. It’ll speed things up if some of the older people in your army already know us.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it, too.”

“You and your skepticism. You’ll get over it.”

“How many people have to survive their events for the cycles to end?”

“No idea. My running theory is six, since that’s how many people fill up that magic circle you were talking about. Six is the magical number, or whatever.”

“Who’s the sixth?”

“Not a clue. And if Kern knows, she won’t tell us.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell you?”

“Well, I think she did one time. Back on my… second round. She pointed out the Calystra of that cycle - she had a different name, but it started with a C too - and we did everything we could to save her.” Zithsa’s eyes darkened, and he looked away for a moment.

“It didn’t work?”

“Not even a little bit. J took it extremely badly. I didn’t take it so well myself, that failure, but at least I didn’t disappear for three weeks. Kern hasn’t pointed out who we needed to save since.”

“To protect you?”

“I guess. More like, to protect J. He’s a good man, our J, but he gets a little bit closer to people than K and I do. Failures hit him just a little bit harder.”

“And that’s why he got so drunk last night?”

“Yup. And it’s why we let him. I only see J drink like that at the beginning and end of each cycle. Otherwise, he keeps his nose clean. Good man, that. He’ll be back to his normal self by tomorrow morning, so don’t worry about him.”

“You all cope differently, you said.”

“Yup.”

“Jyonto copes by getting disgustingly drunk-”

“Drinking himself to sleep, specifically.”

“And how does Kern cope?”

“Not a clue. She’s secretive, but it’s usually for a good reason. We try not to prod, you know?”

“Sure. And how do you cope?”

“I find the nearest rapists and pedophiles, and I string them up by their intestines.”

“What?”

“Scaring Fandix already, Zithsa?” Kern had approached from the entry, Jyonto just behind her. Jyonto looked much the worse for wear; his eyes were puffy, his face fuzzy, and his clothes wrinkled. Even his hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles.

“What?” Zithsa asked, eyes wide with innocence. Fandix grimaced. If he was going to lie to her about something like that, then who was to say that anything he’d said was true?

“What’d he say?” Jyonto asked, mumbling. “That he burns rapists alive?”

“Strings them up by their innards,” Fandix said, shuddering at the idea.

“You saying they don’t deserve it?” Zithsa asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m saying that they should be seen to by the law, properly. Not hunted by random strangers and tortured.”

“That’s a debate we can have another day,” Kern said firmly. “For now, I need to get some supplies. If you’re going to provide a wagon, I might as well get those supplies now.”

“Supplies? Like clothes that befit a general in the army? The latest fashions so you don’t look like a grandmother who found a de-aging spell?”

“Weapons and armor,” Kern said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, that’s taken care of. I sent a request to Gerrod months ago.”

“You knew the cycle was coming months ago?” Kern asked, looking faintly surprised.

“I knew a war was brewing,” Zithsa said with a shrug. “I just assumed it would be one of our wars. And if it weren’t, Gerrod could always sell the weapons and armor to this war.”

“Huh. Well, I do need more modern clothes. And the hounds will need cages, so they don’t always have to run.”

“Of course, of course.” Zithsa stood, turning to Fandix. “Duchess, would you be kind enough to keep an eye on our healer Jyonto, here? He might miss his mouth if he tries to eat.”

Jyonto glared at Zithsa, throwing up a rude gesture that made the other man burst out laughing.


	10. Chapter 10

Calystra was not nearly as easy to find as Zithsa had been. A horse breeder, she rarely stayed in one place for long. Even with Zithsa’s “friends” to help them track her, it took nearly a week to catch up to her. Fandix was beginning to think the woman was evading them on purpose, a possibility she mentioned to Jyonto as they approached the herd of horses she was supposedly hiding in.

“It’s possible,” he admitted. He’d become a much more friendly person, just as Zithsa had foretold. Jyonto joined Fandix and Zithsa in nightly discussions, surprisingly knowledgeable about the country’s nobility. He’d even heard some rumors that Fandix hadn’t, sending her into hysterical laughter more than once with his stories. Kern always sat nearby, listening to their conversations without joining in.

“I was joking, but you’re serious?” Fandix looked toward the herd ahead of them, seeking some sign of another human in the crowd. She and Jyonto sat atop the wagon, the reins in Jyonto’s hands. Zithsa rode just ahead of them, and Kern on the side next to Jyonto. Spare horses followed the lead attached to Kern’s mount.

“Well, Zithsa told you none of us are really looking forward to another cycle. And if Caly knows we’re coming, she might be making every excuse she can to keep us from catching up to her.

“Great,” Fandix grumbled. Sure, she understood why they didn’t want to do this - participate in a war that hardly concerned them - but if it was inevitable, then Fandix felt they should just suck it up and do the job. Besides, holding off their arrival to the war could cost them the war.

“Don’t worry,” Zithsa said cheerfully, “We’ve caught up to her herd now, and Caly won’t leave them behind for anything.”

“That sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’ll be herding horses from now on,” Fandix said.

“Cavalries win wars,” Kern said quietly. Zithsa shrugged.

“Cavalries.” Fandix repeated, exasperated. A wagon was slow, but an entire herd of horses? Sure, horses on their own were fast-moving animals, but a herd would have foals even smaller than the one Kern had brought. They would probably have to stop for an hour or more at every stream or river for the horses to drink.

“Cavalries,” Jyonto agreed, pointing toward one of the nearby horses. Fandix had to admit, he was an impressive size. His fur was a shining black, with white socks and a strip of white down his nose. He stood between them and their destination, a challenging look in his eyes. 

“Excuse me,” Zithsa greeted the stallion as if he were a human. “I’m looking for your mistress, Calystra. Any chance she’s nearby?” The horse responded with a loud whinny, kicking up on his hind legs in a clear challenge.

“Don’t think we’re going to get past this fellow,” Jyonto said, eyebrows raised. Fandix stared at him for a moment, then at the back of Zithsa’s head. They couldn’t possibly be serious.

“We’ll stop here, then,” Kern said from next to them. “You three stay with the wagon and the other horses. I’ll wander through the herd until I find our wayward sister.”

“Aye-aye, Captain!” Zithsa said, a crooked grin on his face as he gave her a very crooked salute. Kern ignored him, detaching the lead from her horse and handing it up to Jyonto.

“No!” Fandix snapped. The idea of sitting around and waiting again was enough to make her pull her hair out in frustration. Climbing down from the wagon, she reached for the horse she’d ridden in on.

“You can come along,” Kern said, catching Fandix’s hand. “But you’ll need to ride my other horse.”

“Why would it matter what horse I rode in on?” Fandix snapped, pulling her hand from Kern’s.

“Mine came from this herd. They’ll be greeted as old friends. Yours will be a challenge to that one over there.” She gestured toward the great black stallion. “And if he declares war, all of his herd will follow.”

“Fine,” Fandix snapped. She didn’t think that that was how horses worked, but she’d never won an argument with Kern and she doubted today would be that day. Better to go along with it. Besides, Kern’s horses were beautiful, and Fandix had been itching to ride one of them from the day she met them.


	11. Chapter 11

Kern didn’t seem to be leading her horse at all. It seemed more like she was letting it wander among the herd, greeting every horse she came across. Fandix followed behind, watching the other horses around her warily. That stallion was always nearby, his ears pricked in their direction and eyes alert. It seemed almost inhuman how closely he watched them both.

Eventually, Kern pulled her horse to a stop and climbed down. The stallion moved out of the herd and stood between her and whatever she was looking at, his ears pinned back in a clear warning. Fandix stepped down from her borrowed horse, the black one with white specks in her fur.

“Caly,” Kern called. Fandix stuck her head around Kern, trying to see what she was staring at. “When you’re done there, the others are nearby. You should join us for lunch.”

“Busy,” came the curt reply. Calystra was on the ground, one hand on the side of a very big-bellied horse.

“You know I won’t get in the way of that,” Kern said with a shrug. “I was just letting you know we’re here, that’s all.”

“What’s wrong with the horse?” Fandix asked. The stallion gave a loud huff, taking half a step forward. He still stood solidly between them, ready for a fight.

“Never seen a horse give birth before?” Calystra asked, turning to look at them. Her skin was dark brown, her eyes black. She had long hair, carefully tied into hundreds of tiny braids. Fandix shuddered at the thought of trying to sit still for so many braids.

“I can’t see much of anything,” Fandix answered, trying not to sound nervous. She wasn’t even remotely interested in seeing a horse give birth. The very idea made her insides squirm.

“Tante,” Calystra said, her voice soothing, “let these two by. They’re not enemies of the herd.”

The stallion shifted, turning his head toward the woman on the ground. The laboring horse let out a huff as he considered his options. After a moment, he side-stepped, clearing the way for Kern and Fandix to approach. Even as they passed, the stallion - Tante, apparently - watched them with suspicion.

“That’s an unnervingly smart horse,” Kern noted, sinking to her knees next to Calystra. The other woman shrugged, turning her attention back to the problem at hand.

“I bred him to be,” she said shortly.

“Anything we can help with?” Kern asked. Fandix was focusing all of her attention on Calystra, determined not to look at what was undoubtedly a messy process.

“I might need to turn the foal,” Calystra said, a crease on her brow. She wore plain brown leathers, worn from use. She appeared to have an average build, probably about the same height as Fandix. Her sleeves were rolled back, revealing muscles that made Fandix sweat.

“I can help with that,” Kern said, sinking down on the far side of the laboring horse from Calystra.

“I won’t turn the help down,” Calystra said, looking faintly relieved. “Your friend can go and fetch Alef.”

“Alef?” Kern asked, pushing her sleeves back. Fandix still refused to look at the horse.

“I’ll tell you about him another time. Start massaging her belly, won’t you?”

“Where do I find this Alef?” Fandix asked, looking anywhere but at the women’s hands and well-defined arms.

“Just ride that way,” Calystra said, gesturing vaguely east. “He’ll be at the creek, tending one of our hounds. Poor pup got too close to the pregnant horse while Tante was checking her out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for anyone who gets emails when i post! i wanted to get all of these chapters on here at once. it won't be this many chapters at once after this spree lol


	12. Chapter 12

Fandix didn’t have to go far before she could hear other humans over the sound of horses. A clash of metal on metal, and a man’s voice as he teased whoever he was talking to.

They were around a corner, standing on a flat bank of the creek, facing one another with short swords in hand. Fandix watched, intrigued, as a man with bright red hair charged the man whose back was to her, sword low.

The other man had much darker skin, and deep brown, curly hair that seemed to shine red in the sunlight. He dodged the redhead and spun around, trying to land an attack on his enemy’s exposed back. When his eyes snapped up to meet Fandix’s, though, he froze.

The redhead took advantage of his opponent’s distraction and lifted him bodily, tossing him into the creek. Fandix put a hand over her mouth, not sure if she should be laughing or offering to help.

“Uh,” she managed, clearing her throat to keep from laughing, “I’m looking for Aleph?”

“That’s the wet puppy,” the redhead said, turning to greet Fandix with a wide grin. His eyes were brown, backlit by sunlight so that they almost looked golden. His bright red hair suited him, and he’d grown a beard that only emphasized the color. Little flecks of white hairs could be seen mixed in, and the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth marked him as just more than middle-aged.

The boy crawling out of the creek, however, couldn’t have been any older than Fandix: twenty, if not younger. Aleph shook out his heavy brown curls before pushing them out of his eyes with an impatient hand and looking at Fandix again. He was shirtless, in fantastic shape, and she was having a hard time figuring out where to put her eyes.

“Who’s asking?” He demanded, clearly annoyed that he’d been thrown into the river. Fandix stiffened at his tone, suddenly very aware of her rank.

“Duchess Fandix of [duchy],” she said firmly. “Lady Calystra has asked for you to join her in the field, as she’s tending a pregnant horse.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, a sarcastic lilt in his voice. But he bowed respectfully - after a glare from the redheaded man - and turned to wander back among the horses.

“I’m Alephon, if it pleases your grace,” the redheaded man offered. “Forgive my son; he’s always been one to forget his manners.”

“I’ll forgive him… this time,” Fandix said, trying to sound dangerous. The wrinkling around Alephon’s eyes told her she’d failed.

“I’ll walk you back to Mistress Calystra, then?” Alephon offered, picking up what Fandix had to assume was his son’s tunic and tossing it over a shoulder. “Or would you like to take a break and a drink by the creek?”

“I should rejoin the others,” Fandix said, thinking about the mess that a horse would make as it gave birth.

“Ah,” Alephon said, nodding. He gave a short whistle, and one of the horses peeled away from the herd to approach him. “Please allow me to escort you back. It can be easy to get lost in a sea of horses.”

“I thought there was an injured hound?” Fandix asked as Alephon climbed bareback onto his horse. 

“Oh, he was fine,” Alephon said dismissively. “He just wanted some attention. We looked for damage and gave him a bath, and he’s back to pestering the other foals now.”

“Oh,” Fandix said, turning her horse to follow Alephon. She didn’t know how he knew which direction to turn, but chose not to ask. It was refreshing just to be treated like her rank again. “That’s good.”


	13. Chapter 13

The newest mother of Calystra’s herd rose shakily to her feet, still clearly exhausted. Her foal, even shakier on his new legs, stumbled a few steps away under the watchful eye of his mother.

Kern watched them both go, scrubbing her hands with a rag. Calystra was standing already, carefully inspecting the mother horse for injury. Tante, the herd’s leader, conducted his own inspection of the newest member of his family.

“It’s a little early to be going to war again, isn’t it?” Calystra asked, running her hands down one of the horse’s back legs.

“It’s faster than usual,” Kern agreed, “but the gods confirmed it.”

“I bet you hated that,” Calystra grinned, moving aside so Tante could make his own inspection of the new mother.

“Not as much as Jyonto,” Kern sighed. She rose to her feet with a groan, wincing as her tailbone protested the way she’d been sitting.

“You’re getting too old for this,” Calystra teased.

“You called, Caly?” Aleph appeared from between a couple of curious horses, patting one on the neck as he passed her by.

“I thought I’d need more help,” Calystra shrugged, “but the birth wasn’t as complicated as I suspected. Why are you wet?”

“Father threw me into the creek,” he said. Tante greeted him with a challenging buck of his head. Aleph responded by patting the massive stallion on his side.

“Of course he did. Al isn’t running around shirtless too, is he?”

“Nah,” Aleph said, looking at Kern with a question in his eyes. “You always make fun of him when he turns red from the sun, I think it’s starting to hurt his feelings.”

“And you’re saying it _isn’t_ funny when your father’s back matches his beard?” Calystra asked, a wicked grin on her face. Aleph tried to look serious, but failed, returning the grin with one of his own.

“No, it’s pretty funny. Why’d you send a duchess after me, anyway? You know I don’t care much for the nobility.”

“She was looking queasy,” Calystra said with a shrug. “This is Kern, by the way.”

“Your big sister Kern?” Aleph asked, clearly confused. Calystra and Kern looked nothing alike, after all.

“She’s a sister in spirit, I guess you’d say,” Calystra said. She threw an arm around Kern’s shoulders, still grinning. “Why don’t you go find your father and your tunic? I don’t need you to get sick just as the world starts to get interesting.”

“Fine, whatever,” Aleph said, turning toward Tante. The big stallion glared down at the young man, seeming to consider his options. Without hesitating, Aleph threw himself up and onto Tante’s back. The horse protested immediately, letting out a loud whinny and prancing. He didn’t buck the boy off, though; Aleph patted the stallion on the neck and the two turned away, back toward the creek he’d come from.

“I was hoping Aleph would be too old for war by the time the next cycle came around,” Calystra said sadly. “I would try to tell him to stay behind where it’s safe, but he inherited his mother’s hard-headedness.”

“We’ll keep him close,” Kern promised, slipping an arm around her sister’s waist. “Close, and as safe as we can.”

“You’ll have to train him with that sword of his, then,” Calystra said. The two turned, headed back to Jyonto and the others. “Al is a good warrior and all, but if that boy is going off to war I want him to be an expert. And Al can only train him so much with that bad knee of his.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Kern promised.

“You know Gerrod’s going to fight tooth and nail about this,” Calystra reminded her.

“Yes, I imagine he will. He was pretty tired of war when I saw him last.”

“It might be worse than that, actually. He didn’t take it well when his older brother died of old age a few years ago.”

“I know,” Kern admitted, looking pained. “I’m afraid he didn’t fully understand what I meant when I said ‘immortality’.”

“We never do,” Calystra admitted. “It sounds so wonderful, right up until the people you love start getting grey hairs.”

“I’ll let Jyonto and you do most of the talking, I think. I can understand why he’s mad, and why he’s mad at me, specifically, but I need Gerrod for any of this to work.”

“I’ll just let him know that this is the final cycle, and he’ll get to grow old and decrepit like he always wanted once it’s over.”

“Ever the optimist,” Kern said, leaning further into Caly’s arm.

“Someone has to counteract your pessimism,” Calystra said. She reached up with her free hand, ruffling Kern’s hair like a mother teasing her child.

“Hey,” Kern mumbled, brushing her arm away. She didn’t bother fixing her hair, leaving it sticking up in random directions. “I’m not a pessimist. I’m just tired.”

“We all are, dear sister,” Calystra said, a hint of sorrow in her eyes.

“Do you want to visit her, before we leave?”

“No,” Calystra said, looking toward the west as if seeing something important in the distance. “But Aleph will want to, and Alephon too, probably. I’ll see about hiring some hands to help the boys, and they can herd the horses to your Duchess Fandix’s land while the rest of us travel separately. It’ll save us time, and give them both a chance to say good bye.”

“Don’t worry about hiring extra hands,” Zithsa said, appearing from behind one of the nearby horses. Calystra jumped, then gave her brother a rude gesture. “I’ve already hired them, and they should be arriving in less than an hour.”

“You know I like to vet my own hires,” Calystra complained. She unwrapped the arm around Kern’s shoulders and wrapped Zithsa up in a big hug. “But I guess I can trust you.”

“Never trust me, darling,” Zithsa said cheerfully, returning the hug. “If you start trusting me, that means I’m not doing my job.”

“You’ve hired spies, haven’t you?” Calystra accused, tugging on one of his earlobes. He winced, then laughed outright.

“I wouldn’t be a spymaster if I hadn’t!” He said cheerfully. Slipping out of Calystra’s reach, he danced off among the horses.

“You know I can set the whole herd after you if I want!” Calystra called after him. Kern watched the two with a faint smile.

It was good to get the family back together, despite the circumstances.


	14. Chapter 14

That they weren’t being forced to herd the horses with them was a relief. The news of how far they would need to travel to reach their final member, Gerrod, was _not_.

“Three days out of our way,” Fandix grumbled as she helped load the wagon, grunting with the effort of lifting a bag of dried meats. Jyonto stood below, handing bags up to her as they prepared for the next leg of their journey. He had a distant look in his eyes; they’d been like that since he’d met the boy Aleph the night before. Apparently, Aleph was just Jyonto’s type. Fandix couldn’t find any reason to disagree.

“It gives those boys more time to get the horses to your land,” Calystra reasoned. She was crammed into the wagon with Fandix, accepting the bags Fandix received and stacking them carefully. So far, she’d managed to take up half the space the bags had been taking before. It was clear why this cheerful woman was immediately put in charge of organizing things.

Fandix just made a face. There was no reason the horses couldn’t just arrive after them. Zithsa had hinted that they would be meeting more than just herdsman before arriving at her castle, but he wouldn’t give details. He’d hired three people to help herd horses, and a fourth to deliver a bundle of letters. Everyone but Fandix had contributed at least one letter to the bundle.

“Trust me,” Calystra continued, setting the next bag down in a crevice that seemed to be perfectly sized for it. “There’s a reason for all of the delays, and it isn’t just because we have to gather all five of us together.”

“What reason could we possibly have for delaying war preparations?” Fandix snapped. She felt she had less patience with each passing day. There was a war brewing, and she was loading turnips into a wagon in the middle of a random field.

“Delaying?” Zithsa asked, his face appearing in the opening at the front of the wagon. He’d been attaching the horses and giving the wagon a once-over for damaged parts. Kern was finishing cooking breakfast, the scent of slightly-burnt bacon drifting through the air.

“Delaying!” Fandix repeated. “The longer we spend frolicking in the fields, the less time we have to gather allies and supplies for the coming war. The war that you lot are supposed to help me win!”

“I didn’t realize it was your war,” Kern’s voice could barely be heard through the cloth walls of the wagon, but it made Fandix jump anyway. She was getting very tired of Kern sneaking up on her.

“It’s not my war, but you know what I mean!”

“Well, rest assured, Duchess,” Zithsa said cheerfully, reaching through an opening on the wagon toward a bag of fruit, “we aren’t delaying anything. In fact, our delays are actually to help prepare for the war!”

“What’s that mean?” Fandix asked. Kern reached through the back of the wagon, handing Calystra two bacon and cheese sandwiches. “How are you preparing for a war in the middle of nowhere?”

“Calystra’s herd will make for some of the best cavalry in the world,” Jyonto finally joined the conversation, climbing up to sit on the back of the wagon. “And the letters I sent out are the first steps to setting up supply runs for healing herbs and even a few more doctors.”

“My letters were to fellow breeders,” Calystra said. She was sitting on a particularly lumpy-looking sack. “Horse breeders, hound breeders, and some pigeon breeders. A few hunters, too, so we can have some game to break up the monotony of normal army meals.”

“I have an entire spy network to re-establish,” Zithsa said, a note of complaint in his voice. “A few of my favorite messengers have died of old age by now.”

“What an ominous thing to say,” Kern said dryly. She leaned against the back of the wagon next to Jyonto.

“Ominous but true,” Zithsa said with a shrug. “I also wrote some carefully-worded letters and sent them to your potential allies, Duchess.”

“You what?”

“You can’t expect to win a war against your king with a duchy and two earldoms.”

“We’ve already contacted those allies we trust!” Fandix said, alarmed. “The ones you sent letters to might bring them straight to the king, and our element of surprise will be gone!”

“Honey,” Zithsa said, wiping some apple juice from the corner of his mouth, “your element of surprise was gone the moment you ran off into the mountains. But don’t worry, I made sure that the only ones we contacted were people who would at least be sympathetic to the cause. At worst, they’ll keep themselves neutral in the coming war. At best, you’ll have four more highly ranked nobles on your side, and a whole slew of lower nobility.”

“How many letters did you send?” Fandix asked, feeling faint.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Calystra recommended, giving Fandix a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Zithsa always worries people, but his gambles almost always pay off.”

“Gambles?” Fandix asked. She was definitely feeling dizzy now.

“Maybe you should ride in the wagon today,” Jyonto suggested, looking faintly concerned.

“What have I done?” Fandix mumbled, her face in her hands.

“You’ve gone to war,” Kern said softly. There was a long silence before the others started moving again.

Fandix rode in the back of the wagon until lunch time. Things were starting to feel entirely too real, and she wasn’t really liking it.


	15. Chapter 15

Where the others had seemed to live in their own special bubbles of isolation, Fandix was surprised to learn that Gerrod had built a life for himself in a city within her own duchy’s borders. It wasn’t a major city, but it was known for the high quality arms and armor it produced.

She was beginning to see why.

Gerrod owned a massive smithy, a coplex of interconnected buildings with more fireplaces than she had in her entire castle. The bustle of people coming in and out of the building was impressive, and Jyonto actually had to ask someone for directions once they got inside. It was massive, and incredibly hot.

The heat of the smithy was suffocating, and the sound of a dozen hammers on metal was deafening. Fandix gritted her teeth, following closely behind Jyonto and trying not to stare directly into any of the fires. She would need a change of clothes after the sweating she was doing in here. Jyonto, somehow, wasn’t even sweating.

They passed by a middle-aged woman, muscular enough to be twice Jyonto’s size, as she worked on what appeared to be a metal rake. Her hammer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other, she carefully shaped one of the rake’s teeth, so focused on her work that she didn’t look up as the two passed by. Her skin color was similar to Aleph’s, as if one of her parents had very dark skin and the other very light. Further down, they passed a man who was so dark that it was hard to see the soot on his skin as he worked with two pairs of tongs so small they could almost be called tweezers. Fandix couldn’t tell what he was making, only that it was incredibly delicate and equally beautiful.

It was the man at the far end of the building from where they’d entered that Jyonto was after. He stood over a fire, his short black hair dusty with ash, and inspected the color of a rod of metal in the fire. He glanced their way, black eyes backlit with the orange fire, before scowling and turning back to what he was doing. Fandix watched as he pulled the rod the rest of the way out of the fire and turned toward a nearby anvil, hefting a massive hammer. Sparks flew as he worked, flattening the round rod until it was half of its original thickness.

“You know I’ll just outwait you, Gerrod,” Jyonto said patiently, crossing his arms in front of him. He’d been careful not to touch anything in the shop; his clothes were expensive, and soot would ruin them. Fandix wished she had the same ability to avoid dust as Jyonto.

“I’m busy,” the man grunted, his voice so deep that it almost couldn’t be heard over the hammering in the background.

“I’m patient,” Jyonto said with a shrug. He paused for a moment, before leaning forward and lowering his voice. “Kern has more patience than I do, though.”

“Tell her I said to fuck off,” Gerrod snapped. He was tall and massively muscled, the hammer in his hand that would be too big for Fandix looking almost comically small compared to him.

“She’ll fuck right off,” Jyonto agreed, “right on into here, to put out your fires and drag you out by the ear.”

“She’d be in for a fight if she tried,” he growled.

“A fight we both know she’d win. C'mon, Gerrod. You signed up for this, whether you understood the consequences at the time or not.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, thanks, you’re not my type.”

“I have better things to do than fight someone else’s war.”

“If you’re a member of this community,” Fandix found herself saying, “Then this isn’t someone else’s war.”

“Who are you, then?” The big man asked. He towered over Fandix, making her sweat even more. She was starting to get light-headed, but she kept it together. Stiffening her shoulders, Fandix rose to her full height and performed her best impression of her mother’s sharp anger.

“Duchess Fandix of Halvarros.” She kept her shoulders squared and her frown in place while Gerrod stared silently at her. There seemed to be a whole stew of emotions stirring behind that man’s eyes before he finally sighed and offered a polite bow. She was surprised to see that the bow was perfect by noble etiquette standards, as if he’d been trained for castle service.

“Smith Gerrod,” he said politely, “at your service. Forgive me for my bluntness, Duchess, but I didn’t ask you to start a war.”

The words hit harder than Fandix had expected, and she deflated some. Her stiff shoulders sank, and she stared up at the big man in shock. She was going to war to defend her people… But her people didn’t want her to?

“Let’s talk outside,” Jyonto suggested, a wrinkle between his brows as he looked at Fandix.

“The king is raising our taxes,” Fandix said, desperate for this smith to understand her reasoning. “If we allow him to keep going, the country will be too starved to fight back.”

“I’ve not noticed a rise in taxes,” Gerrod said, crossing his arms. The room was going a little dark, his black eyes boring into Fandix’s. A rush of anger made her take a wobbly step forward.

“That’s because I’ve been paying the extra from my coffers! But I can’t keep it up for long-”

“Outside,” Jyonto ordered, a hand suddenly on Fandix’s elbow. She turned to look at him, wondering why he and the rest of the world seemed so fuzzy.

–

Gerrod carried Fandix out of his smithy, looking faintly annoyed. Even in the sunlight outside, the dark brown of his skin was in startling contrast to her pale white. The inn Zithsa had chosen was just up the street, and he continued to carry the woman even after she woke and asked to be set down. Jyonto walked beside them, ordering Fandix to calm down so it didn’t look like a kidnapping.

Once he’d set the duchess down on a chair in the inn, Jyonto took over. She’d been dehydrated, and the heat of the forges in the smithy had simply been too much. Stepping away, Gerrod nodded silent greetings to the others. Calystra sank into a chair next to Fandix, offering her a cool drink. Zithsa sat across from them, looking amused at the situation. All of them let Gerrod be, knowing that he preferred not to be swarmed by people. Even by people he liked.

“So,” Gerrod grumbled, sinking into a chair next to Kern, “whose life are you going to ruin this time around?” There was a long pause before Kern answered, regret in her eyes.

“Hers,” she said, gesturing toward Fandix. The duchess seemed to be having trouble deciding whether to deny help and look tough, or accept help and get fawned over by men and women that she clearly found attractive.

“Didn’t expect you to answer,” Gerrod admitted.

“I know I messed up, with you. I didn’t fully explain the consequences, and it hurt you in the end. I won’t make excuses. But if we save that girl, and we finish cleaning up this mess the gods left us, we can all move on. You can have your happy ending.”

“Does _she_ know what’s waiting for her?”

“Not yet. She might suspect, but I’m not sure. She’s a smart kid.”

“When will you tell her?”

“When she trusts me.” He started to get up, but Kern put a hand on his wrist. “And Gerrod? The others don’t know.”

“Then why’d you tell me?”

“I owe you honesty.”

“And you don’t owe it to them?” Kern didn’t answer for a moment, regret showing in every inch of her body. Gerrod refused to feel sympathy for her. Not when he’d buried his younger sister only a week prior.

“They don’t want to know,” Kern finally said.

“Really.”

“Ask Zithsa what happened, last time I told him and Jyonto who we needed to save.”

“I’ll do that,” Gerrod growled, turning his back on her. Kern watched him walk away. Fandix turned to look toward her, confusion on her face.


	16. Chapter 16

As Fandix’s mind cleared, her body cooled off and a cup of cold water in her hand, she looked around the room. Everyone who needed to be gathered was there.

Jyonto, his wavy blonde hair getting into his pale green eyes. He wore clothes of a quality that rivaled her own, even though he’d never claimed to be a member of the nobility. The only thing that was odd about him was the quality of his clothes; his pale skin and hair matched most of Halvarros, and there was no accent to be found when he spoke. Except at night, when he was getting sleepy and chatting with Zithsa about some shared memory they had. That was when his speech seemed to develop a rhythm, like poetry. The Healer.

Zithsa stood out among the pale people of Halvarros, but not in a way that was jarring or suspicious. He had golden-brown skin, which seemed to get darker the more time he spent in the sun; his voice was so light that it almost seemed feminine at times, and he wore loose clothes that were a few years out of fashion even among the commoners. His eyes seemed brown until the sunlight caught them just right and green appeared. Despite his differences, he seemed to know someone in every town, village or farming community they passed through. He could disappear into a crowded room, melting into the background as if he’d been born and raised there. The Spymaster.

Calystra stood out more; her uncanny ability to calm and call on any animal they came across occasionally drew stares. Most people would avoid a half-starved stray dog, but Caly had called them to her and fed each one. Her deep brown skin and equally dark brown eyes were not unheard of in Halvarros, but she was clearly an immigrant. She had an accent that Fandix couldn’t quite place, though she knew it came from a warmer climate to the south. It wasn’t so strong that she couldn’t be understood, but her speech patterns made it clear that this wasn’t her first language. The Tamer.

Gerrod, tall and muscular, was darker than Calystra; though he was just as clearly an immigrant from somewhere further south, his accent was almost imperceptible and impossible to place. He spoke slowly, his deep voice melodic; Fandix was sure that he could talk her to sleep if he wanted to. He wore plain clothes in simple colors, the metal of his belt buckle shaped roughly with steel. Sitting next to Kern, the woman seemed tiny and harmless. And there was a stiffness when he spoke to Kern that Fandix could feel, even from where she sat across the room. The Smith.

And, of course, there was Kern. She wore clothes that were just as plain as Gerrod’s, and just as clearly of a high-quality make similar to Jyonto’s. Her hair was short and wavy, a dull brown that looked like it had spent too much time in the sun and faded. Her skin was only slightly darker than Jyonto’s, and the two could easily pass as half-siblings. For the first time since she’d met her, Fandix realized she had no idea what color Kern’s eyes were. Confused, Fandix focused more on Kern, sitting in Gerrod’s shadows. No matter how hard she stared, Fandix couldn’t seem to fathom what the woman looked like. Even when Kern’s eyes met Fandix’s, she couldn’t find words to describe the color. Slightly disturbed, Fandix looked away. The General.

She hadn’t believed in the prophecy until that god had spoken to her in that cave in the mountains, and now she was sitting among the people it described, listening to them discuss the best ways to stay hydrated while travelling. It felt entirely too casual, as if a momentous occasion in history had come and passed while she blinked.

“Time to get moving,” someone said directly behind Fandix. Jumping, Fandix spun to see who it was; Kern, sneaking up on her once more. Grimacing, Fandix downed the rest of her water and stood.

“About time,” she said. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and for a moment the room spun.

“Don’t get your hopes too high,” Zithsa said cheerfully, taking Fandix by the arm to steady her. “Kern means it’s time to gather the rest of our things. We’re still a few days away from leaving this particular city.

“I’m getting really tired of these delays,” Fandix whined. Zithsa let go of her elbow and threw his arm around her shoulders instead.

“Oh, we know, Duchess. We know.”

“You know who we are,” Jyonto explained, “but no one else does. It’s important that we make a strong first impression on your army when we arrive at your castle.”

“Why?”

“So they don’t question our capabilities,” Calystra said cheerfully. Everyone was walking now, headed toward the entry to the building.

“I can _order_ them not to.”

“That rarely works,” Gerrod said.

“I just want to get home,” Fandix said tiredly. Zithsa squeezed her shoulders in a half-hug. Her formal training told Fandix that he was inappropriately comfortable with her, but it felt nice so she kept her mouth shut.

“We know,” Zithsa said quietly. “Soon enough, Duchess. And it’ll be worth the wait, I promise.”


	17. Chapter 17

Fandix watched from her place near the door as Gerrod pulled and measured Kern, testing a set of chainmail armor that he’d apparently been crafting for her for some weeks. Kern stood still, a distant look in her eyes, as he walked around her and inspected the fit. Satisfied with the mail, he gestured toward the big woman Fandix had seen in the smithy before.

The woman was, apparently, Gerrod’s niece. Though she appeared to be about the same age as Gerrod, she called him “Uncle” and followed his orders without question. Working quickly, she pulled pieces of plate armor over Kern’s chainmail, tugging it into places and marking the leather straps that held it in place with a piece of charcoal.

Zithsa and Calystra had recieved similar treatment, Jyonto watching from his seat next to Fandix. Fandix had armor of her own at home; Gerrod had offered to make her some, but she’d refused. Her mother’s armor fit well enough, and served the same purpose.

“If you’ve all gone to war a dozen times over,” Fandix asked, leaning closer to Jyonto, “why do you all have to get new armor sets? Don’t you still have armor from the last time around?”

“Armor changes over time,” Jyonto answered, watching with seeming fascination. “Smiths find ways to smelt higher quality metals, engineer different kinds of chain mail and plate armor, and so on. If we were all wearing armor that we got in our first wars, Kern would be wearing leather and Zithsa would have the ugliest scale-plate armor you’ve ever seen. It’d be out of date and nearly ineffective against the weapons our enemies will be using.”

“Oh,” Fandix said, realizing he was right. She had armor from her grandmother’s era, and it was made of an iron that was almost laughably impure. “You couldn’t magic the old stuff to be better, though?”

“Sure,” Jyonto said, looking faintly amused, “as long as we can keep the spell up in the middle of the battlefield.”

“There are spells that don’t require constant casting,” Fandix reminded him. “I’ve read about some in my grandmother’s library. The Dragonkin had that sort of thing.”

“I’m sure they did,” Jyonto said, nodding, “but that kind of magic was lost to memory when the Dead Valley was sacked however many centuries ago.”

“It’s in my books,” Fandix said.

“Sure. Can you cast those spells?”

“It isn’t that simple,” she snapped.

“Exactly. So our lovely friends will be getting all new armor and weapons. Don’t worry, though, we’re not expecting you to pay for any of it.”

“I didn’t think you would,” she said, startled. She hadn’t even considered that possibility.

“Really?” Jyonto asked. Kern’s armor was being stripped now, Gerrod and his niece having gathered all of the information they needed. “We work for you, don’t we?”

“You work for the gods.”

“The gods don’t pay armorers,” Jyonto said, clearly amused. “But Zithsa spends almost as much time as a merchant as he does a spy, so he’s gathered up a fair bit of wealth in his time.”

“You all live out of Zithsa’s pocket?”

“Oh, no. I run around, making friends among healers and selling my services to nobility like yourself. Calystra’s horses pay for themselves, and then some. They really are the best in the world, you know. And Gerrod’s income is obvious.”

“So it’s just Kern that lives out of Zithsa’s pocket?”

“Kern lives out of all of our pockets,” Jyonto said. Kern approached, tugging at her tunic. She smelled faintly of rust now.

“Freeloader General?” Fandix asked, hoping to get a rise out of the woman. Kern raised an eyebrow at her.

“We’re headed to a tailor next,” was all she said. Fandix stood, following Kern out of the building.

“Kern has saved enough nobility and royalty, and claimed rewards, to make all of our pockets look empty. She just doesn’t carry the wealth around. In fact, she usually funds us when our pockets start to go dry. I don’t think she even keeps track of how much she has.”

“She doesn’t,” Zithsa said dryly. “You have no idea how frustrating it is to see the mess she keeps her finances in.”

“Fascinating,” Fandix said, watching Kern as she walked ahead of them.

“When we get together,” Calystra said, “we all give Zithsa a share of our money, and leave the finances to him.”

“It’s the best part of each cycle,” Zithsa said, looking pleased. “I’m never richer than when I’m with all of you.”

“What do we need at a tailor?” Fandix asked as they all turned toward another shop.

“Well,” Jyonto said, tugging at his own shirt, “I don’t need much. And neither does Zithsa, I imagine. But the other three -” he looked at the others with a critical eye “- dress like homeless people. We can hardly expect people to respect us when we show up smelling like horses and anvils.”

“I should probably get some new clothes, too,” Fandix admitted, looking down at her own dirt and soot-stained clothes.

“Oh, we’d planned on it,” Zithsa said, a sly grin on his face. Without thinking about it, Fandix stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed outright, and she felt a grin of her own spreading.

“How long is all of this going to take, anyway?” Fandix asked.

“About three days,” Calystra said, hands shoved in her pockets. They all stepped into the tailor’s shop, staying near the doorway as Zithsa did the talking. “And then we can set out for your home, and you can relax a bit.”

“I live about five days from here,” Fandix speculated, trying to sort the math out.

“Five days by horse,” Gerrod corrected. “We’ll have a wagon, so it’ll probably run closer to a full week.”

“So, a week and a half and we’ll finally be ready to start this war.”

“Try not to sound so thrilled about war,” Kern said quietly. Fandix glanced at her, still unnerved by the fact that she had no idea what she actually looked like. There was a shadow of sorrow on Kern’s face.

“I don’t want war any more than you do,” Fandix reminded her, “but it’s the only way I can keep my people from starving.”

There was a long pause, as Kern seemed to consider her response. Finally, the other woman just turned and walked away.

“She makes it sound like I’m a warmonger,” Fandix complained.

“Well,” Calystra said, her cheer seeming somewhat false, “that’s just how our dear eldest sister is.”


	18. Chapter 18

Everyone split up on the third day in the city.

Gerrod had spoken with the other smiths in his workshop, and about half had decided to pack up and volunteer as smiths in the coming war. He was overseeing the work, as well as helping to finish the last details on the armor everyone had been fitted for on the first day.

Jyonto and Zithsa went together to the market, Jyonto to refresh his supply of healing herbs and teas, and Zithsa to... Well, Fandix chose not to ask about what Zithsa was doing. He’d been rather enjoying spending everyone’s money, and today was his last day to do so.

Calystra went to a leatherworker, to pick up the saddles, bags and bridles they’d all turned in for cleaning and repairs. She’d become fast friends with the woman who owned the shop, chatting for nearly an hour about her horses and the process for breeding them.

That left Fandix with Kern, who was picking up the group’s new clothes, as well as other supplies for their trek to Fandix’s castle. The two made their way through the city on horseback, weaving slowly through the crowd so as not to trample anyone. Kern rode in silence, Fandix just behind her. Fandix spent most of her time watching the city as they rode through; she was fascinated by the architecture and the culture of the city, so different from the culture in the castle she’d been raised in.

She’d learned a lot in the past few days; before, her horses had been tended while she was away, but now she’d seen the process for trimming and re-shoeing a horse’s hooves. She’d never had any reason to learn the many different stitches used in making clothes, but Jyonto had happily described each one, along with its uses.

The logistics of traveling from one part of the country to another was something she’d always left to a servant; even when she’d left her castle for the Dead Valley, her head of house had packed her bags and told her how often she would need to buy more. Now she knew approximately how much meat to pack for six people on a week long trip. She’d been told, in great detail, exactly how dangerous it was to take a wagon through rocky terrain without checking it first for damages.

Kern tugged her horse around a corner, and Fandix was forced back to reality; watching the other woman’s back, she found her mind wandering.

Kern wore a sword on her hip now, one that had been provided by Gerrod. She’d also picked up a strange-looking pike, a long staff with a wicked-looking blade on the end of it. It had shimmering blue bands up and down its shaft, a material Fandix didn’t recognize. When she’d tried to lift the thing, she’d been startled to find how heavy it was; apparently, it had a steel core. That weapon stayed in the smithy, however, where it was less likely to be stolen.

Kern had inspected both of her new weapons with an expert’s eyes. It was clear even in the way she walked with a sword at her hip that Kern knew precisely how to use it. In comparison, Fandix felt clumsy and almost silly with her own sword. She’d worn it to scare off potential thieves or robbers; she didn’t actually know how to use the thing. Even now, the monstrosity at her hip felt somehow out of place. Kern’s was like the last piece of a puzzle falling into place; Fandix’s sword felt like a dress that had an extra sleeve sewn on for no reason.

They were near the tailor’s shop now, the crowd thinning as they reached the higher-expense part of the city. A little boy, in ragged clothes with hair that had clearly been cut with a dull knife, stumbled out in front of Kern’s horse.

The horse came to a stop, seemingly on her own. Fandix’s reaction wasn’t quite so swift; her horse jerked to a stop next to Kern’s, giving her a reproaching look over one shoulder. Patting it on the neck as an apology, Fandix eyed the boy in front of them with suspicion.

His clothes could hardly be described as such; more like rags, stitched together with a clumsy hand until they covered the more important parts of his body. It was summer, so there was no reason for him to have a coat, but Fandix immediately knew that he wouldn’t have one when winter did come. He didn’t have shoes, and his belt was a strip of rope tied clumsily at his waist. He looked up at them with bright blue eyes, a pleading look on his face.

“Spare a coin for the homeless, master?” He asked, a touch of a whine in his voice. Fandix put a hand on her sword, looking around. Such beggars were often flanked with thieves, hoping to prey on distracted nobles.

Kern reached into the saddle bag in front of her and pulled out three silver coins, reaching down to place them directly in the boy’s hands. Fandix watched, startled by how casually Kern did it.

“Stay safe, kid,” Kern said softly. The boy, startled by how much she’d given him, quickly squished his hands to his chest and scurried away, clearly afraid she’d take it back from him. Without another word, Kern knocked her heels into her horse’s flank, and moved on.

“That was a poor decision,” Fandix said, still looking around warily. “He likely has friends, watching where you keep your coin.”

“Possibly,” Kern conceded. “But they’ll be disappointed. If they’re brave enough to approach my horse, and swift enough not to get kicked, they’ll find that saddle bag empty.” She stopped in front of the shop they needed, sliding from her horse with ease. Fandix followed suit, though not quite so gracefully.

“You tricked them?”

“If there even are any thieves with him. That boy looked ragged, even by thieves’s standards. Besides, there are protective spells sewn into the saddle bags, for just such occasions. Let’s get this done, then, Duchess. I know you’re eager to be on the road.”


	19. Chapter 19

They finally set off the following morning, just before the sun had risen. Kern’s little foal had been left behind with Calystra’s herd of horses, and now her hound was staying behind with Gerrod’s niece. Their wagon was packed, the horses pulling it fresh. Everyone wore the same old clothes they’d been in before, though there were newer sets tucked away in the wagon.

Fandix rode on the wagon’s front left, watching the world pass by through tired eyes. Gerrod had settled behind the reins of the wagon with obvious comfort; Zithsa rode far enough ahead that he could hear someone call for him, but only if they shouted. Kern rode just behind and to the right of the wagon, with Jyonto and Calystra chatting as they rode at the back among the spare horses. They’d all fallen into their places with practiced ease, as if this was where they’d always belonged.

It became even more clear that they were used to traveling together like this when it came time to settle in for the night. Zithsa chose their spot, just off the rode beneath some trees, and everyone split to their respective chores.

Kern dug a hole for the campfire as Calystra gave each of their horses a careful inspection for injury, often pausing to detangle tails and manes. Zithsa gathered firewood, Jyonto always close by as he searched for useful herbs or edible berries in the brush. Gerrod carefully inspected the wagon from front to back before joining Kern as she finished building the tents in a tight circle around the firepit. Whoever finished their chores first would start the fire, as everyone else unloaded necessary things like bedrolls and saddlebags into their tents. How they decided who would cook was a mystery, though they rarely had the same cook each night.

Mornings were much the same, though Zithsa and Jyonto assisted Calystra with the horses, while Gerrod and Kern broke down the campsite and buried the fire. Fandix wandered among each job, learning both by watching and by careful instruction from each of them. By the time she arrived in her castle, she realized, she would be fully self-sufficient on the road. She’d even been learning how to cook, though each of the other five had their own distinctive flavors.

It was the second night on the road, with Gerrod tending his cooking, that they heard thunder in the distance. Everyone looked up at the sound, staring toward its source for a moment before letting out a collective sigh.

“That kid’s gonna be miserable,” Calystra said, stretching with a yawn.

“What kid?” Fandix asked. She’d been watching Gerrod add spices to his pot, intrigued by the scents they created.

“The one that’s been following us, stealing our food,” Zithsa said lazily, leaning back. Though his legs stayed crossed, he laid back all the way, resting his head on a saddlebag.

“Someone’s been stealing from us?” Fandix sat up, startled and angry. “And you’ve been letting them?”

“We’ve practically been giving them food, really,” Gerrod said. He stirred the pot, looking thoughtful. “Now that I think about it, I shouldn’t have made something that needs a bowl. It’s hard to leave a whole bowl out for a kid and not make it obvious.”

“Then go and get him,” Kern mumbled. She seemed almost asleep, her eyes half lidded as she leaned against a nearby tree.

“He’ll get a cold if we don’t,” Jyonto stood, stretching. “I don’t feel like dealing with that, honestly.”

“What are you going to do to him?” Fandix asked, more confused than ever. “Turn him in at the next town we come to?”

“He’s not a criminal,” Zithsa said, looking amused. “Just a runaway.”

“I’ll make room for him to sleep in the wagon,” Calystra said, standing.

“He’s been stealing from us!” Fandix said. “If that doesn’t make him a criminal, what does?”

“He’s a kid,” Kern said, pulling herself to her feet. “What do you want to do, hang him before he’s old enough to grow a beard?”

Fandix clearly wasn’t going to win this argument. Jyonto was already gone; Gerrod hadn’t budged, continuing to focus on the dinner he was cooking. Zithsa stood, going toward the wagon to tell Calystra to pull one of his spare tunics out of the bags for the kid.

Gerrod had just started passing around bowls of dinner - a thick soup that made Fandix’s eyes water - when Jyonto returned, a hand on the shoulder of a scared boy. As soon as they were both in the firelight, Fandix recognized him; he was the one Kern had given three silvers to.

“Oh, three silvers wasn’t enough, little thief?” Fandix growled.

“I thought ya coul’ spare some…” He muttered, shrinking. Jyonto shrugged.

“You were right,” Zithsa said cheerfully. “Now come and sit down, kid. There’s a bowl for you.”

“Yer not gonna kill me?” He asked, voice wavering.

“You have fleas?” Gerrod asked, eyes narrowed.

“Uh,” he started, swallowing loudly.

“He does,” Jyonto said. “I’ll get you some salve, Gerrod, and the boy can take a bath in the river before we leave in the morning. I’ll give him some soap that’ll run the fleas off.”

“Mm,” he grunted. “Just stay on the other side of the fire, kid.”

“Have a seat,” Kern said. She’d rejoined them at the fire, a bowl of Gerrod’s soup in hand. The space next to her was open, with plenty of room for both Jyonto and the kid. Hesitantly, the boy sank down next to her.

“Eat something,” Calystra ordered, passing him a bowl. “We’ll figure out what to do about you following us later.”

The kid didn’t argue any more, eyes wide as he stared into the bowl he’d been handed. It was almost too spicy for Fandix, who still couldn’t name the herbs that had gone into it, but the boy seemed to appreciate the burn. Gerrod sat down with his own bowl next to her, adding even more heat to his bowl before digging in.

“We didn’t pack enough for seven people,” Fandix muttered to him. Gerrod glanced at her before shrugging.

“We can get more at the next town we get to. Though, the way Kern thinks, she likely packed extra in case we were stuck out here for an extra day.”

The boy slept in one of Zithsa’s spare tunics that night, in the space in the back of the wagon that Calystra had cleared for him. In Zithsa’s oversized shirt, the boy seemed even thinner than Fandix had originally guessed. Maybe it was better for him to come with them, after all.


	20. Chapter 20

“His name is John, apparently,” Jyonto announced as he sat down next to the fire. He’d woken the boy in the back of the wagon, taking him to the stream nearby so he could bathe with J’s special soap.

“Are there fleas in the back of the wagon now?” Gerrod asked. He was reheating the soup from the night before, filling their campsite with the warm scent of spices.

“I put some spelled herbs down,” Jyonto assured him. “And you have the salve for any bites you do get. You’ll be alright.”

“I hate flea bites,” the big man grumbled. He’d shown Fandix one such bite that morning; swollen and itchy. Apparently, he was allergic.

“We’ll leave in two hours, I think,” Kern announced, stepping out of her tent and stretching. One of her hounds hopped on his hind legs, planting his front legs on her shoulders. “Good morning, Little One.”

“Your other pup is with the boy at the creek,” Jyonto said.

“Good,” Kern murmured. The hound, satisfied with a friendly scratch behind his ears, hopped back down and returned to begging Gerrod for food scraps. The hounds usually slept at the entrance of Kern’s tent, or next to whoever was keeping watch on the tent at night. During the rain, however, she’d brought them inside.

“Why delay our departure?” Fandix asked. She was learning patience when it came to their delays; almost all of them were justified. Now she asked more out of curiosity than annoyance.

“Let the roads dry,” Zithsa said. He stepped out of the trees, where he’d disappeared to take care of his morning business. “Lose two hours now, or risk losing five or six in a sinkhole later.”

“Makes sense,” Fandix agreed. She accepted breakfast from Gerrod with a nod of thanks. Though she still didn’t understand this strange family, she was beginning to like them.

“Welcome back, John,” Calystra said, smiling from her place next to Fandix. Fandix looked up to find the kid, far less ragged-looking, standing nervously by Kern’s tent. Her other hound, the female, stood next to him, tail wagging.

“Have a seat,” Kern said, gesturing to the spot next to her. After a moment of hesitation - and a glance toward Jyonto, as if asking for permission - John sat down. When Gerrod handed him a bowl, he ate it slowly. It seemed that some of his fear that they would take his food had left him. The hound that had been following laid down next to him and rested her head in his lap, begging openly for him to share. One of his hands dropped from the bowl to pat her gently on the head.

“How do the hose fit, kid?” Jyonto asked, sitting on John’s other side. “I estimated your size, so they might not be a perfect fit. But they’re better than nothing.”

“Good, Mister,” John said quietly.

“Good. They used to be Kern’s. She’s the shortest of us, so it took the least work to alter her clothes.”

“You saying that Kern being short is useful?” Zithsa asked, a wicked grin in place.

“She’s travel-sized,” Calystra teased. Kern continued to eat her breakfast, more or less ignoring the others.

The decision to wait proved a good one. Not a full hour into the morning ride, they passed a merchant and his caravan guards, trying to dig a wagon out of the mud. Gerrod continued to drive slowly until nearly noon, watching for other mud pits and dangers in the road with an expert eye. John, tiny compared to the smith, rode next to him. He had light brown hair and bright blue eyes, and stared at the world around him with barely-hidden wonder. He’d clearly never left his city before; when they stopped for lunch, he slipped away to climb a massive tree next to where they’d stopped. When asked why, he admitted that he’d never seen a tree so big.

That night, John followed Kern around the camp as she dug the fire pit and built the tents. Mostly, he kept his mouth shut and stayed out of the way, but if Kern asked him to pass her something he did so without hesitation. He seemed eager to please, as if worried that they would ditch him the moment he stopped pulling his weight.

Calystra disappeared into the woods that night with both of Kern’s hounds, and returned with a fresh stag. Fandix had never had venison as good as that was, and went to bed with a full stomach and heavy eyelids. Zithsa volunteered for first watch, eyeing the remains of the stag with distaste. He’d made a meal of their apples and some berries Jyonto had found in the forest.

–

Fandix woke with a start, sitting up in her tent and staring at the flap. Detangling herself from the blankets, she reached for her sword and stepped out, certain that something was wrong. Kern had done the same; her hounds stood next to the fire, staring into the dark night with hackles raised.

“Do you know how to use that?” Kern whispered, gesturing toward the sword in Fandix’s arm. Embarrassed, she shook her head. She’d brought it to scare off the average ruffian, not because she knew how to use it. Kern didn’t seem surprised. “Get back in the tent.”

John was shoved into the tent with Fandix a moment later, a frightened look on his face. Kern stuck her head in - the tent was large enough for one person to be comfortable, not three - and ordered them both to be quiet. Her head disappeared, and they heard her issue an order in a language Fandix didn’t recognize. Peeking out of her tent flap, Fandix found both of the hounds standing directly in front of the tent, in a guard position.

“Are we gonna die?” John asked, barely above a whisper. He was shaking and pale. Forcing herself to stay calm, Fandix shook her head.

“We’ll be fine,” she assured him. She didn’t actually know if they’d be okay, though. She knew Kern would be able to fight, and certainly Zithsa was a deadly man. But she hadn’t seen or heard anything about Calystra or Gerrod knowing how to fight, and Jyonto was a doctor, not a warrior. Even beyond their capabilities, she had no idea what they were up against.

The first sound they heard was the twang of a bowstring, followed almost immediately by someone grunting and hitting the ground. Wincing, Fandix closed her eyes. A hand slipped into hers, and she squeezed John’s fingers in her best attempt at reassurance.

Steel on steel echoed through the clearing they’d camped in, and someone screamed. John whimpered, scooting closer to Fandix. Heavy breathing sounded next to their tent, and one of the dogs let out a vicious snarl. Someone yelped, and Fandix covered John’s ears as the person outside the tent was mauled by two massive hounds.

“We’ll be fine,” Fandix said again, as John curled up in her arms, his ears still covered by her hands. She wasn’t sure if she was reassuring the boy or herself.

More steel against steel, another loud twang of an arrow being loosed. Someone groaned, a sickening wetness in his voice that made Fandix shudder.

“They have a mage,” someone said nearby. She thought it might have been Zithsa, but the voice was muffled by the walls of the tent.

“I noticed,” Kern answered, closer to the tent’s flap. The other sounds of fighting had died off.

Hesitantly, Fandix let go of John, scooting until she could peek out of the tent. The hounds had returned to their positions just outside, and though they were clearly on alert, their hackles were no longer raised.

“I think it’s over,” she whispered to John. “Stay in the tent, okay?” Fandix slipped out of the tent, trying not to look too closely at the bodies littering the camping ground. Ahead of her, toward the road, she could see Kern’s small form, her bare sword in hand. Someone else stood further away, facing Kern with their hands raised. Like the ringing of bells in her ears, Fandix heard the other person call on some kind of magic. She wanted to cry out, to warn Kern of the coming danger, but she couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth.

Kern’s form was wrapped in a burst of flame, lighting the clearing with brilliant red. Fandix gasped, staggering backward. Even from yards away as she was, she could feel the heat of that flame.

Just as suddenly as the fire had appeared, it was gone. The bells in Fandix’s ears stopped so abruptly that a shudder went down Fandix’s spine. A scorch mark was all that was left of Kern. Lifting the sword she didn’t know how to use, Fandix rushed forward to kill the mage that had killed her new friend.

And realized he was already down, someone standing over him with a blood-drenched sword. Fandix slowed to a stop, stunned to recognize Kern standing over him.

“But you-”

“Kern’s an illusionist,” Jyonto said, appearing from his own tent. A bag was in his hands, tied with bright red ribbons. “You should have stayed in the tent, Duchess.”

“I- I thought it was over,” she said weakly. Kern was approaching now, wiping the blood from her sword with a dirty rag.

“Get back in the tent, Duchess,” she ordered. “John doesn’t need to see all this blood, and he’ll try to leave the tent without someone to keep him still.”

“I saw you die,” she whispered. One of the fallen bandits let out a groan, making her skin crawl.

“You saw what I wanted the other mage to see. Go to your tent, Duchess. That’s an order.”

**Author's Note:**

> -This is an extremely rough-draft version of a book I'm in the process of writing. I hope you like what you see!  
> -If you want to see similar works that aren't on my ao3, if you have questions about my characters, or if you just want to pester me, all of this can be found on my side blog, [babycakesdaydreams](https://babycakesdaydreams.tumblr.com/)  
> -If you want to see what kind of a trainwreck I can be when I'm not writing, check out my personal blog, [theycallmebabycakes](https://theycallmebabycakes.tumblr.com/). You can also check out my barely-used [twitter](https://twitter.com/VossKern)


End file.
